


Singing the True Song of the Soul

by Niki



Series: From Pent-up Aching Rivers [4]
Category: NCIS
Genre: AU: Supernatural, Creature Fic, First Time, M/M, Soul Bond, Trope Bingo Round 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1423645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niki/pseuds/Niki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs thought he was going crazy; was this “the Pull?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MerNeith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerNeith/gifts).



> Trope Bingo Square: Soulbonding
> 
> Thank you to (Mer)Neith for beta!

Gibbs looked up from his computer screen when Tony's phone rang. He was glad of the excuse, really, because for some reason he found it really hard to keep his eyes off the man these days. He was hoping for a case, anything to force his concentration onto the job instead of his agent. 

Tony's expression changed, too much for it to be dispatch.

“What's wrong? Are you... Well, what does the vet say?” He was getting up, collecting his things, and Gibbs narrowed his eyes. He recognised that tone of voice. 

He was talking to _her_.

“I can be there in half an hour, sweetheart, just... breathe, okay?”

He stopped by Gibbs' desk, looking at him and covering the phone for a moment. “Family emergency.”

The sudden spike of jealous fury that ran through Gibbs almost took his breath away. He knew Tony had said he hadn't slept with Emma Dempsey ever since their discussion, and he could see the proof all over his face – the dark shadows under his eyes, the lines of stress, the paleness – but when would he get tired of Gibbs' slowness in making his mind, when would the presence of a willing, beautiful woman be too tempting, when would the hunger make all his promises a useless weight?

“You're still my sister,” Tony was saying into his phone, but he was still staring at Gibbs. Could he sense the rage, the jealousy, the desperate longing in him? Was the pointed reminder for Emma or for him?

He couldn't nod, couldn't give a verbal consent, couldn't approve of Tony leaving, not to go to _her_ , but Tony was moving towards the elevator now, having taken his silence as consent and Gibbs was on his feet too, following him, before he even realised he was going to do it.

“I'll call you when I'm closer,” Tony was saying into the phone. “You just concentrate on the Beast.”

Tony ended the call just as Gibbs stopped the elevator in between floors and just looked at him. There was no accusation in the gaze, but no surprise either, only... was that resignation? The fury exploded, and when Gibbs reached for Tony he honestly couldn't say what he was going to do.

He kissed him. Mouth open, hungry, demanding, his body crowding Tony against the corner of the elevator, arms on his shoulders, and oh God Tony was kissing back, with no hesitation or complaint and Gibbs could feel the rage abate. Desire was taking its place now, or maybe it had always been there, masked by the anger, or so closely intertwined with it that no one could tell them apart. 

The violence of his feelings for Tony was a constant surprise for him, and keeping it hidden, keeping it contained, was harder by the day. And apparently the slightest excuse was enough to make him fail.

Part of him couldn't believe what was happening, what his body was doing, making out at work, rutting like a teenager in an elevator, and especially the part where he didn't give a damn, it felt so good, it felt so _right_ , and Tony was right there with him, and he knew he had to stop, they had to stop, but he kept his tongue in Tony's mouth, his body glued to him, swallowed the moans of the other man, why did it have to feel so good, why did he have to feel so good...

Tony pushed him away, and he went, relieved he hadn't had to make the decision. Looking at Tony, though, he almost kissed him again. He could see the physical effects on the incubus already, he looked healthier, the bags under his eyes were gone, his eyes looked brighter, his skin smoother, and instead of making Gibbs feel proud over being able to give him that with just a kiss, it made him feel guilty for denying him this. 

It could be so easy to give in but...

But. 

Well, at least Emma Dempsey would look less tempting to Tony now, as he was less desperate for sustenance. Could that really be why he'd done it? Had he really planned that far? 

“I'll call you if we get a case,” he said, quietly, apologetically. 

“Boss...”

“Go,” he said. “I'll see you later.”

He wanted to invite Tony over to his place later but... Emma might need him, and it probably wasn't wise. 

“The cat was one of the only things keeping her alive after she lost Amanda,” Tony volunteered. “If she loses him now...”

Gibbs nodded. He was calmer now, maybe the kiss had given him as much as Tony. But he knew it wouldn't last, if the past days were any indication. 

Not that he'd tried kissing Tony before, not since that night at his house.

“Thanks, Boss,” Tony said, and ran a hand through his hair, and checked his clothes before starting the elevator again.

\- - -

It had been bad having Tony there, distracting him, drawing his gaze, but it was almost worse not having him within his sight. Gibbs' gaze kept turning towards Tony's desk every few minutes, and he felt the emptiness echo within his chest. 

This couldn't go on. He was like a love-sick teenager, but he didn't think he had ever felt this bad, even when he _was_ a teenager. And he really wasn't ready to deal with it at his age. 

Was this “the pull,” then? He hadn't really understood how strong it was, especially as he was the non-supernatural part of the equation. But it was like now that he had admitted to himself that he had always felt something for Tony, he was dealing with years' worth of longing, condensed into just a few days. 

Had Tony felt like this all those years ago? And he had still not said anything? Had been content with working with Gibbs, just seeing him, even when he had been almost cruel in... Not “almost,” said a voice in his head that always sounded so much like Shannon. He had been cruel. He had seen how much his approval, his caring, had meant for Tony over the years and what had he done? Head slapped him, made his praise either patronising or turned into a joke. He'd enjoyed watching Tony work for his attention. 

Oh, he had justified it to himself as encouragement for the other man to work harder, to be even better at his job, as a person... but the justifications sounded like excuses now, the pain he had so often caused making him wince. How had he looked at Tony, at the light dying in his eyes, and turned away? 

What the hell had been wrong with him? 

And what the hell was wrong with him now?

He almost swore aloud. He glanced at the clock. Five to, good enough. “Go home, people,” he said, standing up abruptly. Thank god it was Friday. Maybe they wouldn't get called in during the weekend, and he'd actually manage to come to grips with the whole thing.

McGee and Ziva looked up at him from whatever make-work they were doing, and he frowned away the questions he could see they wanted to ask.

He would go home, he would go into the basement, he would not drive over to Tony's place to torture himself with the knowledge the younger man wasn't home. Or worse, he was, and he'd have to explain what the hell he was doing and...

He couldn't live like this. How was he supposed to make life-altering decisions about their relationship and future when he couldn't _think_ when Tony wasn't within his sight. Or even when he was, he admitted with self-deprecating humour.


	2. Chapter 2

Gibbs couldn't concentrate on his boat, and was almost ready to give up staring at his tools and go pace the living room when he heard the door. 

Had the team ratted him out to Ducky or Abby? He couldn't deal with their well-meaning worry, especially since they didn't even know about the situation. Then again, Ziva and McGee would both be worse because they _did_ , or could at least guess, and he didn't even want to consider what they must be thinking about the whole thing. 

He didn't even let himself hope it would be... 

He recognised the sound of his steps on the stairs even without turning to look, even before Tony said a word. The relief was instant. Was it the actual physical presence of the man, or just the knowledge that he was there? Or the fact he wasn't with someone else?

“Jethro?” Tony asked when he still didn't turn to face him.

“How's the cat?” he asked.

“Groggy after the operation but he'll live,” Tony replied carelessly, obviously realising Gibbs didn't really care about the animal, or its owner. 

He grunted as a reply, still staring at he table. He was afraid to turn, to look at Tony, because they were alone, they weren't at work, and there was no reason on Earth why he shouldn't kiss him, shouldn't touch him, shouldn't let the decision make itself...

“Do you want me to go?” Tony asked, quietly, and that made him whip around, instant denial on his lips.

“No!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He wasn't sure of many things at the moment but he knew the pain was more manageable when Tony was where he could see him. 

A part of him tried to tell him that the pain would be even more manageable when he was touching the other man, holding him close and... he turned towards the stairs and took them up two at a time. 

Tony followed him into the living room, not saying a word when he started pacing. 

“I can't live like this,” Gibbs said, coming to a halt in front of the fireplace and turning to look at him again. 

Tony looked resigned. He sat heavily on the sofa and looked down at the floor before replying. “I was afraid so.”

“I can't concentrate on anything but you,” Gibbs blurted out, and Tony's resignation turned to astonishment and he looked back up. 

“I try to work, to read a file, and all I can keep thinking about is you. I've known you for a decade, dammit, I know how you look, but suddenly, it's like... I get lost on how the light reflects on your eyes, on the shape of your nose, the curve of your...” He bit away the rest of the sentence. 

“Your nose!” he yelled, like that was the final straw, and seriously, he couldn't ever recall being obsessed about how pretty Shannon's nose looked. 

He could deal with loving Tony, apparently having loved him for years, he could even deal with _wanting_ Tony, he recognised the feeling even if he had never felt that way about a man before. What he couldn't deal with was the obsessiveness in exclusion of everything else in his life. 

“I want my head back,” he said, despair evident in his voice but he was too tired to care. 

Tony swallowed, and stood up. “Then the time to make decisions is here,” he said. 

Was Gibbs ready for the commitment the decision entailed? He didn't know.

“The feelings... the Pull... it won't go away, not on its own, unless...”

“Unless?”

“I go away.”

Gibbs stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. 

“I'll resign, and leave. We can never see each other again.”

Gibbs bit his lip to stop the distressed sounds from escaping his mouth, and shook his head wordlessly. No. Not that. 

“I will not pressure you into this,” Tony said, simply, shrugging to underline his point and Gibbs wanted to shake him.

“Not an option,” he got out. 

“Gibbs... Jethro, as long as I'm here, it won't go away.”

“Dammit, Tony, I tell you I can't be without you and your solution is to remove yourself from me?”

“You didn't sound happy with the situation.”

“That's because I'm not happy with the situation!”

“Look, I know I'm not the person you envisioned yourself with, so...”

“Goddammit, DiNozzo! I love you, I _love_ you, it's not you being _you_ that is the problem.”

“It's _what_ I am,” Tony said, slowly.

“Yes. This... bond, pull, whatever... How are you dealing so well with it?” Gibbs asked, suddenly.

“Because I've had practice.”

Gibbs closed his eyes. So he'd been right, Tony _had_ been feeling like this for years.

“Like this?” he asked, quietly.

“No,” Tony said. “Not... quite like this. The Pull... it's worse, because it's mutual, and I can feel both sides, sort of.”

Right, Tony could sense desire, so he'd... He'd been bombarded by Gibbs' conflicted feelings all day, every day, at work. Maybe it was a good thing they hadn't had a case, with two members of the team compromised...

“Losing you is not an option,” Gibbs said with conviction.

And just like that, the decision that had seemed so huge, so impossible, was made. Not because of the Pull, or the discomfort and emotional upheaval caused by it, no. But because the alternative was unthinkable. He didn't want to lose Tony. He would do _anything_ not to lose Tony, and he rather though he always would have, even before he'd acknowledged his feelings. 

“It will never go away completely,” Tony said, the only sign he'd been affected by that the way he was pressing his hands into tight fists. “If we do this, we will... I don't know about the level of... bond, link, connection, however you want to call it, I don't know how invasive or strong it will be. But... You will only ever want me, after.”

Gibbs smiled then. “That's what it's supposed to be like,” he said, softly. “When I was with Shannon... other women ceased to exist.”

There was pleasure on the younger man's face, obviously from the comparison to Gibbs' first wife, the most important of his past relationships. 

“I don't mind that bit,” he confessed, and now Tony was smiling too. “But I want you _and_ my work.”

“You want me,” Tony said, a question and a statement, maybe even a claiming?

“Yes.” It was funny, this conversation should have made him desperate, having Tony so near, all these feelings running high, but instead, for the first time in days, Gibbs felt calm. 

He still wanted to kiss Tony quite badly, his arms felt empty and his skin was itching for a touch, but the rage was gone, the jealousy, the despair, and the frustration had calmed down. 

He finally understood – the claiming, the rituals, they weren't about sex, not really. They were about connection, about acceptance. And they had started them. If Tony tried to walk away now, they would never be whole, never be free, not even him, even without incubus physiology. 

This was it, and had always been, and he smiled, reaching out with his hand. “I am yours,” he said. “I have always been yours, and I will always be yours, for as long as I will live.”

The words came easy, with the knowledge that they didn't take anything away from his past, from his girls – he could belong to both Shannon and Tony. He probably always had, at least from the moment he laid eyes on a beautiful cop with tube socks and sparkling eyes. 

The radiant joy in those eyes made all the agony of the past weeks worth it, worth going through to reach this knowledge, this certainty, this calm. The kiss, when it came, was light and sweet – light years away from the desperate hunger of their kiss in the elevator, earlier in the day. 

Gibbs pulled back, and could see Tony biting his lip, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Which movie?” he asked, smirking. 

Tony laughed out loud. “Casablanca.” 

“Really, all these declarations and all you have is _Casablanca_?” 

“It's better than Paris,” Tony said, but Gibbs knew he'd always have his Paris, too, and it was okay. It was all okay. 

He smiled, wider and happier than he had in over two decades, and smothered Tony's laughter in another kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

It felt wrong to even think of the sex as an “after thought,” but after the emotional scene downstairs, it was. Kind of. But it was also sex with a person who'd spent his whole life perfecting his craft, and even more importantly, physical sharing with a person Gibbs loved with intensity he hadn't felt in years. 

The desperation was back but it was purer now, the hunger easier to deal with when the object of his obsession was in his arms, in his bed, his lips and hands free to explore every inch of the body that had been keeping him safe for years and driving him crazy for just a few short weeks.

It wasn't just that Tony was technically good, he'd had good before – had been known, inside and out, by a lover before, having tried everything they could think of together with the hunger and exuberance of kids first discovering sex and love, his years with Shannon had been playful and passionate, the fire with them to the end – and it didn't even feel wrong to think of her now, because she would always be a part of their relationship. 

It was the feel of all that skill and fire being for _him_ , and maybe that was a part of incubus allure, that they could make anyone feel like that, but Gibbs knew the illusion was true for him, for them, so past didn't matter. Why should he be jealous – how _could_ he be jealous – when he knew all this was for him, had always been for him, and would always be just for him?

It wasn't even weird that the body next to his (around him, over him, beneath him...) was male, that there were hard muscles where in the past there had only been soft curves, that there was an insistent cock digging into his side, because... Was it because he knew male desire, knew how it felt? Or was it just that it was Tony, Tony who had been almost a part of him for so long, was someone whom he loved so completely there could be no part of him he couldn't accept, wouldn't worship. Or was it the way he responded to Gibbs' every touch, every kiss, every caress, like he was made to be touched by him (he _was_ , that's what the whole thing _meant_ ), so how could any of it be weird, be repulsive, make him hesitate?

There weren't so many differences, really – the hands in his hair gripped just as hard as smaller hands had, in the past, the fingers digging into his back creating the same pleasurable grooves down his nerves as other pairs of hands had, the legs wrapped around his waist as insistent, the heels digging into his ass as desperate, the eyes filled with love and desire and belonging and happiness maybe more expressive than anyone else's ever, but that wasn't connected to his gender. Tongues and mouths an teeth didn't come with gender markers, muscles and strength weren't a unique experience to someone who'd slept with agents and soldiers, short hair nothing new, so was it all, really, just the shape of genitals in the end? Or was the real difference the millions of different things that made _this person_ different from every other person he had ever been with?

And if it occasionally did occur to him that the head he was cradling, the hair he was gripping, was the same he had head-slapped for years, the body the same he had trained with, the face same he had seen for years next to him in debriefings, in the field, when he was dressing him down, teasing him, berating him, yelling at him... Did it matter except to remind him that this was someone he knew, inside and out, as a co-worker, maybe even as a friend, and now he was free to get to know him as something else, as someone else? 

It didn't matter who took who, who did what to who, who touched what and when, because Gibbs realised Tony had been speaking the truth when he said it wouldn't make a difference – it was a connection, a claiming, but it wasn't an incubus claiming his Chosen, they were two people claiming their mates, giving physical expression to the connection they had forged.

Maybe the only reason Tony needed to be on top was because he knew what he was doing – and not just as a guy sleeping with a guy, but as an incubus following his biological instincts in forming this bond, maybe it was easier for him to concentrate when he was the one riding Gibbs, him controlling the pace, him slowing them down to exchange words, him speeding things up to overwhelm him when it looked like he was thinking too much.

There were no formal words of ritual or claiming; there were spontaneous declarations of love, there were grunts of pleasure, questions about preference, moans of appreciation, hasty words of guidance, interspersed with their names – or gasped first syllables of their names – endearments, curses; that all worked to bind them together tighter than memorised lines could, truer than rehearsed words of wedding vows, of ritualised unions that were just an imitation of _this_...

Gibbs could have sworn he felt Tony in his head the moment he came, even if he'd never admit it out loud, even under interrogation or torture, because despite everything he had seen and felt, he was still uncomfortable with the supernatural aspect of it all – easier to accept that Tony was just really, really charming, their connection just really, really intense kind of love, the ritual claiming just really, really good sex.

They clung to each other for a long time, sweat and semen gluing their skin together just like their minds were doing, and Gibbs didn't want to move, ever, even if that meant never doing it again – this, this was more important than passion: this connection, this peace, this sharing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to finish this earlier but caught a cold, sorry!

It was a good thing it was the weekend – the heady honeymoon feeling of a new relationship would have made it impossible for them to work. They couldn't stop to kiss in the middle of case work like they could in the middle of making food, eating the food, working on the boat, getting dressed, getting undressed, in a shower, on the bed, on the sofa, in the basement...

Gibbs could never get enough from kissing Tony, who was just the right height, who loved it, who responded like he was made for it (he was...), who always, always looked so happy to, before and after, who kissed like it was his sole focus, not just a prelude to sex.

There was sex, too, of course – on the bed, on the sofa, in the basement... They pleasured each other until they were sore, and Gibbs hadn't felt like this in years, hadn't known his body was still capable of coming so many times a day, and was Tony _sure_ there was no “inhuman appetite or stamina” transfer? 

There were discussions, too, about life, past, future, about what it had been like for Tony, growing up as an incubus, especially after his family rejected him; how it had been for Gibbs, growing up with Jack, without his mother there as a buffer. They had never talked so much, known so much about each other, and Tony had never, ever looked so healthy, so strong, he was glowing. 

Ziva would know what it meant, McGee too – but wouldn't everyone else see it too, see the happiness and the contentment, and know what it meant, what it had to mean? Wouldn't there be questions, suspicions, investigation? And Gibbs would never deny the truth if asked, would not refuse to acknowledge the best thing that had happened to him in years. 

Part of it was of course the unreality of the weekend, the rush of the new relationship, but it was easy in a way Gibbs couldn't have foreseen. Was it the fact they had already known each other for so long? Or maybe the biggest part of it was trust – he trusted Tony with so much already: his life, lives of those close to him – that trusting him with this, too, wasn't a stretch. 

Two days was a short time, really, to get to grips with the new incarnation of their relationship, but it was better than the alternative. Gibbs knew he was indulging himself but couldn't find a reason not to. At least they'd been lucky about not being called into work. 

They would have managed, though. Friday night had given him his focus back. He could think again, even though the love and the desire were still there. He still looked at Tony and wanted him, but he could deal with it now – if there was one thing getting older had taught him to appreciate it was delayed gratification. As impatient he was at work he knew the value of patience in his private life. After all, he did work on wood by hand – there was no rushing there. 

He could look at Tony and want him but be okay with not touching. (Not that there was much “not touching” during the weekend.) Tony had seemed subdued during the limbo they had been stuck with, the Pull driving Gibbs insane, but now that quietness seemed to have turned into calmness. Of course he was talking, recounting anecdotes from his life and movies, but there was the contentment shining through in everything. 

He wasn't trying too hard anymore, he didn't need to – he had Gibbs' attention and affection, and he could trust in it now. And even the stories from his life were more honest now, touching on subjects he'd never expose at work, even with the team he trusted as much as he ever trusted anyone. Gibbs learnt more about him than he had ever known – would even have known he wanted to know, to be honest – and it almost surprised him how much there was still to learn. Tony presented as an open book but when one thought about it, there were huge parts of his life he never talked about, and brushed the questions aside so skilfully it felt like a magic trick.

After all, there was the huge part of himself he had kept hidden, downplaying his dating stories while making them sound exaggerated to not draw attention to his libido; occasional clumsy attempts at flirting to hide the true effect of his charm; excessive notice played to every good-looking female to distract the casual observer from all the men. 

Gibbs didn't even mind talking about anyone Tony had been with in the past, not even Emma. Not now that he had this... security in what they had. Maybe the commitment should scare him but the guarantee of forever was pretty damn sweet for a thrice divorced man. Barring injury and death, of course – he knew way too much to trust in forever in that way, but at least Tony would never leave him, would never give up on him even if they fought, would care enough to draw him out if he tried to hide. He would also probably know what he felt and wanted to say even if Gibbs didn't find words. 

He could feel it, always there on the background, a... sense of Tony in his mind. They were in constant contact, in the same room even if not touching, so he didn't know how strong it would be when they were apart, and while he agreed with Tony that they'd need to test it, he wasn't ready to be apart yet. There'd be separations soon enough when they returned to work for them to find out how much was just awareness of each other due to proximity and how much was this mystical bond Amanda and Emma had had. 

As much as he feared the blatant proof of supernatural, he also wanted it. There had been too many times when he hadn't known if Tony was okay, if he was alive, and he'd accept any downside for the comfort of that knowledge, that link. 

They'd spent the entire weekend at Gibbs' but for a quick stop at Tony's to (have sex in his bed) collect a change of clothes for him for Monday (including the grey sweater with a high neck because they didn't need to give anyone that many clues). They'd spent the nights in Gibbs' bed, sleeping entwined, which was something Gibbs had never managed to do with a new lover, too used to his own space over the years but now, here, with Tony... it was like he couldn't bear not touch him for that long, to separate even while they slept. 

He was not looking forward to Monday, and yet he was. He wanted to get back to work, to do all those things he couldn't concentrate on last week, he wanted to work, needed to work, to be who he was, but... but he wanted to come home to Tony at the end of the day, to have this closeness, this joy, this sense of family, at the end of every day. 

They'd be tied together from now on. Was it too soon to ask the other man to move in? It would make more sense to live at his house than at Tony's. Or maybe they could get a place together, if Tony would rather. The memories of this house would always stay with him, even if he didn't live here anymore. 

“You know I can't read your mind, Jethro,” Tony said from where he was leaning on his shoulder.

“Yeah?” He couldn't help but smile as he turned to look at Tony. There hadn't been many moments when the smile hadn't been on his face during the past days (except maybe when he was plotting how to murder Tony's father).

“Yeah. But I can tell you are thinking something intently, and maybe... worried? Is it work?”

“No. We'll be fine.”

“Of course we will. Everything will be just like always. I'll call you Boss and everything,” Tony promised with a grin. 

“You'd better.”

“And I'll even give you an excuse to head slap me.”

“I don't think you need to go out of your way to give me an excuse, Tony,” he replied with his own grin. “You're bound to do something stupid.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Boss.”

They shared a quick kiss before Tony returned to the subject. “So we go to work, just as always...”

And with an opening like that Gibbs had to wonder about the extent of mind-reading, really. “And then we come home?” he asked. 

“Well, yeah.”

“Which home?” Gibbs asked. 

“Oh. I'd thought... here. But if you...”

“Is here home?” 

“You're here,” Tony replied with a shrug, like it really was that simple. 

Then again, this was the man who had been content for years to just see him at work when he wanted so much more. 

“You don't need to settle anymore,” Gibbs reminded him huskily. 

Tony sat up, face as serious as he'd ever seen it. “I'm not. Jethro, you're it. You. Now that I have this... I'd sleep in my car. In the office. I don't care. My apartment is not the sanctuary it once was. This place... I don't know, maybe it's just that it's your place, but I've always felt at home here. Welcome. Especially now. I just thought we'd... but maybe it's too soon for you.”

“No. I want you here. I just...”

“Then we'll be here, Jethro. Don't make it any more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Assuming we don't get a case and can leave at a decent time tomorrow... We could go get enough things to get you through the week.”

“Sounds like a plan.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's sex advice courtesy of Asa Akira.
> 
> Warning: Reference to a threat of rape

Leaving their bed felt like a sacrifice. Gibbs had even woken Tony up early to, as he said, “make sure he was in the best possible condition” to survive the day. 

“You do realise I could probably do without sex for a few weeks right now?” Tony checked. 

“Are you complaining?” Gibbs asked, kissing his way down his chest.

Tony's fervent “no” turned into a moan of pleasure when he reached his goal. If someone had told Gibbs at any point in his life before last month that he'd be starting his working week by giving a blow job he might have considered committing them. 

Now, in keeping with his earlier realisations... Oral sex was oral sex. Sure, the technique was all new, and there had been some gagging involved in his first tries, but Tony had promised to aid him in practice any time he wanted, and he hadn't seemed like it was a huge sacrifice either, so Gibbs figured he wasn't failing too badly. After all, he knew what he liked. 

He liked reducing Tony into a moaning state of incoherence, liked knowing he put that languorous look in his eyes, liked the uncontrolled movements that preceded his orgasm, even liked the slightly bitter taste of his come on his tongue, and he really, really liked the ferociousness with which Tony responded after catching his breath, and damn but they had to cut this short to go to work. 

Maybe he shouldn't have instigated anything before they had to go and be all professional, but waking up wrapped up to a warm, lean, enticing body had been too tempting.

“I really want you to fuck me again,” Tony was saying now, teeth against his ear, and Gibbs closed his eyes to enjoy the sensations. “But we don't have time for that.”

“I'm the boss, no one would dare say anything to me if we're late.”

“Vance would.”

He would, too, and today of all days Gibbs didn't want to draw his attention. 

“So what would you prefer?” Tony purred into his ear, hand on his thigh, stroking the skin tantalisingly – teasingly – close to where he really wanted it.

“I don't care, use your hand,” he said, trying not to make it a command, because then he'd remember that every time he tried to order Tony to do something during a case and...

“You know the secret to a good hand job, Jethro?”

“Yeah?”

“Using your mouth.”

\- - -

They had only the one car, so Gibbs drove them to work but dropped Tony off a few blocks off so that he could go get them real coffee, and maybe some breakfast. Tony might be well-fed but Gibbs needed food, and they hadn't had time after the shower, which, okay, maybe it would have been faster to shower separately. 

Gibbs had managed to kill the smile, but there was no way he could disguise the lightness in his steps, nor could he manage a frown to save his life. He just hoped Ziva and McGee would respect him enough not to comment. 

He had barely had time to sit down behind his desk when the rest of the team arrived, and luckily Tony looked physically different enough from Friday that he drew all the attention. He had no reason to hide his smile, after all, even though he was obviously trying to keep the true extent of his happiness hidden. 

They barely met each other's eyes when Tony dropped the coffee and the sandwich on Gibbs' desk. 

“You look... better,” Ziva said, glancing from Tony to Gibbs and quickly back when the latter found the frown.

“I feel better, thank you, Ziva,” Tony said.

“So the cat's all right, then,” McGee suggested with a grin. “Or is that 'cats'?”

Gibbs blinked. He was sure they'd trained the probie better than that. Ziva obviously knew the score because she was staring at McGee with an incredulous expression. 

Was it just that Ziva knew more about the whole incubus thing – Tony had told him about their discussions – or was it just that the youngest man in the team was desperately trying _not_ to see the truth? He had witnessed the kiss from the door way, they had learnt, but since they hadn't had witnesses to the Chosen discussion... maybe Ziva really hadn't told him anything. 

This could be fun.

“Yes, Probie, the cat is fine,” Tony replied with a restrained grin. 

McGee was obviously going to go on but Ziva was desperately trying to catch his attention, shooting worried glances at Gibbs who couldn't help but meet Tony's gaze and then press his lips together to avoid laughing out loud. He didn't know what Ziva knew or had guessed, but she had very clearly decided that teasing Tony about his relationships wasn't something that should be done in front of Gibbs. 

This _was_ going to be fun. As much as Gibbs hated his personal life being a subject of speculation in the office, if it was something he could use to scare the probies...

His phone beeped and he looked at it to find a text message from Tony. _Behave._ He almost laughed out loud. Tony knew him way too well. 

\- - -

Tim was sure he was missing something. Tony looked... _relaxed_ after the weekend, which usually meant he'd gotten laid but for once Ziva didn't seem to want to join in on his teasing of the man. Tim couldn't understand why, they had plenty of material just waiting to be used about the cat lady. 

Gibbs seemed to be in a good mood, too, so maybe he had gotten some rest as well, so Ziva couldn't be thinking about protecting them from their boss's infamous temper either. 

And as to the whole incubus thing... Well, Tim was a man of science, so he was uncomfortable with the whole thing without more evidence to back up Tony's claims to be some sort of supernatural being. After all, he was a good-looking man (yes, even Tim could admit that), and not totally lacking in charm so it was easy to believe women would want to follow him. 

Still, there was obviously something going on which he couldn't quite catch. It was almost a relief when dispatch called with a case.

The relief lasted only until they learnt the details: a young petty officer called Renfield Willis was threatening to shoot himself and his co-workers if his demands weren't met but he was either under the influence of something or mentally unbalanced because his demands made little sense.

Negotiating got them nowhere, it only worked to irritate the man and made them fear for the lives of the hostages. 

“Couldn't we send Tony?” Ziva asked after a while.

“What?”

“Like you lured the hostage away from Webber?”

Tim couldn't believe Ziva was seriously suggesting that – was she really buying into this 'Tony is a sex demon' thing?

The others seemed to be seriously considering her suggestion so Tim bit down his instinctive snort and frowned in confusion. _Gibbs_ was actually considering this?

“It could... backfire,” Tony said, reluctantly, obviously speaking form experience, and the expression on Gibbs' face was pure fury.

“Nothing happened,” Tony rushed to reassure him. “My partner got there in time to...”

Was Gibbs growling? Ziva seemed to regret her suggestion as well. 

“Nothing happened,” Tony repeated, eyes locked to Gibbs', stressing both words. “I'll give it a go but you need to keep the LEOs and other witnesses far away.”

“Tony...” Gibbs never referred to Tony by his first name, especially not during a case, and their no nonsense, down-to-earth boss seemed to be taking this supernatural thing seriously and what the hell had Tim missed? 

“I'll be fine,” Tony said, speaking only to Gibbs.

Then he stripped off his gun and his vest. “It'll help, trust me.” Tony seemed to be collecting himself for a minute, back towards the rest of them, and his pose seemed to change before he started walking towards the next room and their target. Without his vest. Without any protection, or a plan, and Tim couldn't help but shout after him, intending to put an end to this nonsense. 

If Ziva and Gibbs were both buying into this garbage, Tim needed to be the level-headed one and stop it. 

Tony stopped, turned, and... Tim met his gaze. 

He forgot everything he had thought about, everything he had been about to say. Those eyes... had they ever been as green? They seemed to be glowing, and suddenly were the only thing Tim could see.

For a second it felt like seeing Abby for the first time – the instant reaction, connection, the heat at the pit of his stomach, and he _wanted_ , and only the shock kept him from taking a step towards the other man. 

Oh. 

Tony broke the eye contact and resumed his way towards the other room. Tim was rooted to the spot, knowing he was blushing, knowing he was sweating, and he had never, ever felt anything like he just had. He was straight, for god's sake! 

Ziva tapped him consolingly on the shoulder. “So now you know,” she said, maybe a little gleefully, before shooting a worried look at Gibbs.

Gibbs was grinning, but the worry soon took over his expression, and he moved to observe the next room. Tim found his will to move, too, and he and Ziva followed, guns drawn.

Tony was approaching their target with his hands up, palms towards the man, in the universal pose of “I'm not a threat.”

“I'm not armed, Willis,” he said, stopping when Willis raised his gun. “I'm just here to talk.”

Tony took off his jacket, then raised his shirt and made a quick turn to show he did not have a gun tucked into his waistband but was that just to show off the form of his naked stomach, flat, tanned golden, and Tim was straight, he was, but he wanted to lick that stripe of skin, and Willis...

Willis was staring at Tony, menace gone from his face for a moment. He looked dazed. 

“Don't you want to talk to me, Rennie?” Tony was asking, and damn, was he smiling? 

“Yes,” the man said, swallowing.

“It would be easier if you were over here,” Tony coaxed, and Renfield Willis took a step towards him, then another, until he was standing right in front of Tony, his hostages forgotten. But he still had his gun. 

Tony reached towards him with his hands. “Can I have that?” he asked, still in that coaxing, soft voice, and Tim rather thought he'd give Tony anything he wanted if he looked at him like that. He shook his head to clear it. 

Willis looked at his gun as if he'd forgotten it was there, and then offered it to Tony, moving slowly like he was in a trance. “Thank you, bello.” Tony took the pistol, ejected the clip and made sure there was no bullet in the barrel before tucking it into his waistband. Then he took Willis' hands in his. 

Willis had his eyes locked on Tony's face and Gibbs gave the signal to Tim and Ziva to move in to help the hostages out of the room now that their captor was distracted. Tim kept shooting looks at the pair even while he hurried the seven other people out of the room. 

Willis was kissing Tony, who was still holding onto his hands, accepting the kiss and even kissing him back. Gibbs was using the distraction to get behind the man, and cuffing him efficiently. Tim couldn't quite read the expression on his face. 

“I'm sorry,” Tony was saying as they escorted their prisoner towards the car. Tim started when he realised Tony was talking to Willis. He sounded perfectly sincere, too, just as he had sounded when talking to Linda Mercer after luring her away from the serial killer. 

The serial killer who was an incubus. Like Tony. Not a human. A being who... why hadn't he pressed the others for details? Tony was not a “sex demon” but he was someone who could seduce anyone he wanted with just a _look_.

Tim really hoped the effect would wear off. Preferably soon. Was this why Gibbs had been so weird ever since Tony kissed him? Tony... kissed Gibbs. And Gibbs was irritated and frustrated and kept staring at Tony for two _weeks_ after that, and then, suddenly, he was relaxed and smiling and oh God Tim wanted to end that line of thought before it reached its logical conclusion. 

\- - -

McGee couldn't meet Tony's gaze and he kept blushing. It was all a bit too real and recent for even Tony or Ziva to be making fun of him for it and Gibbs didn't know quite how to address the situation so he was just ignoring all of the them. 

The team was technically working on their reports but Tony kept glancing at Gibbs, Ziva kept shooting looks at McGee and Gibbs, and McGee was not looking at anyone, and seemed to be trying to slide under his desk. 

And Gibbs could _feel_ Tony's apprehension. Not like before, when he was able to read Tony's mood from his body language and expression, now he felt him at the back of his head, not quite as a conscious thought but something akin to his gut feelings and it was distracting in that it made him apprehensive, too. 

And it was not like there was anything wrong, dammit. Tony had saved seven people (eight, if one counted Willis himself) with his special skills, and if that meant he'd had to kiss someone who was not Gibbs... well, after the weekend, after their closeness it wasn't like he was jealous of Willis. Or McGee. Even if the young man now realised Tony's power in a way Gibbs never would...

Wait, was he _jealous_ of McGee because he, as a Chosen, could never be dazzled by Tony? In what world did that even make sense? 

“Coffee,” he said, abruptly, standing up. 

Everyone turned to look at him, even McGee, though he looked away as fast as he'd raised his head. Gibbs ignored him and met Tony's eyes, nodding towards the elevator.  
“You'd think this would make it easier,” Gibbs said, stopping the elevator in between floors. 

“Huh?”

“The link thing. The bond. But even though I can tell you're feeling off I can't tell _why_ you're feeling like you are. You are, right? I'm not imagining it?”

“That sounds like my line,” Tony said. “No, really, I just... You're feeling something so I'm feeling something and then when I don't know why you're feeling something, it makes me feel even more...”

“Something?”

“Yeah. Are you okay with what happened?”

“Shouldn't I be asking you that?” Gibbs asked, frowning. 

“I'm okay. I'm fine. Well, with the Willis thing, although I do not want to make that a habit. The McGee thing is a little weird, but he should be over it and even though I fear it's something I can never tease him over, we should be okay as soon as I do something like glue his coffee mug to the desk that makes him remember I'm just me, the way I've always been.”

“That would be sacrilege against coffee,” Gibbs said, seriously. Tony smirked, then got serious (for real, not just pretending like Gibbs' attempt at humour.)

“So we're both okay? Just feeding off each other's nerves?”

“I think so.”

“Damn, is this what it'll be like, the fabled bond? Just an added channel for miscommunication?”

“Guess it doesn't replace, you know, actually talking about things. As you do in a relationship.”

“Guess not.”

Gibbs rested his hand on Tony's hip, where the mark used to be, and Tony rested his on Gibbs's hip, where the brand now lay. 

“Nothing's ever easy, huh.”

“No short cuts, at least. The weekend was so easy I thought... well, hoped, but...”

“Yeah.”

Tony leaned forward until their foreheads touched, and they just stood there for a while without saying a word. 

“We just need time to learn how to deal with the bond. And a relationship.”

“We have time. I'm not going anywhere,” Gibbs said. He remembered saying “I do” quite a few times, and this felt the same, somehow. Felt more than the last three times he'd said it, actually. “I'm not going anywhere,” he repeated, and Tony smiled, getting it.

“Me neither.”


End file.
